Judith
If I was confused before, now I'm even more so. I had foolishly believed that being with Mel would make all that desire, that tormenting attraction, disappear. But it didn't. On the contrary… I could swear it has intensified, that it has become something deeper. And that scares me.
The car moved slowly toward the mansion, and my mind was a whirlwind. I knew it was time to talk to Mel, but I had no idea how. All that week in Alaska, we had avoided the conversation; we had given in, surrendered to the moment and the fire burning between us. Now, however, the silence felt like a wall separating us. I didn't know if it had been the same for her, or if she had simply been carried away by desire. If that were the case, then everything should go back to normal… although, honestly, I wasn't sure I could manage that.
That thought terrified me. If Mel acted as if nothing had happened, if she behaved as usual, then maybe I was the one who had misunderstood everything. In that case, I would have no choice but to pretend, move on, keep up appearances until the divorce came and all of this was behind me.
But I couldn't help stealing glances at her. She sat beside me, composed, her face serene, as if we hadn't shared endless nights of love and desire that week. As if she didn't know every corner of my body, as if I didn't know hers. The calm she displayed made me anxious. I had no idea what she was thinking, and it consumed me. Perhaps she believed it had all been fleeting, unimportant. Maybe, for her, I was just another Jade in her life.
Yet, something didn't fit. A phrase of hers echoed in my mind over and over: "I respect your relationship with Judith."At that moment, I understood. What I saw in her eyes wasn't indifference; it was pain.
Before I knew it, we had arrived at the mansion. Everything felt blurry, as if I were acting in a scene I didn't remember rehearsing. I walked inside, greeted everyone mechanically, even told Nicholas that we were exhausted from the trip. Then, together with Mel, we went up to our room. I did everything on autopilot while my mind remained trapped in the chaos of my thoughts.
When I closed the door, I turned to her. Mel was standing there, silent, as if she knew this was the moment we had been avoiding. Her eyes betrayed her: something was broken inside. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw her expression, that mixture of sadness and resignation that pierced my soul.
"Mel… do you like me?" I asked, a lump in my throat, fearing the answer.
She shook her head gently, barely moving. For a moment, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. What an idiot, I thought, for believing it could mean something more.
But then she spoke, breaking my thoughts.
"No, Judith," she said, her voice trembling, looking me directly in the eyes. "I don't just like you… I fell in love with you."
The world seemed to stop. My eyes widened; no, this wasn't supposed to happen.
"No… no," I denied, incredulous. "You must be confused… or misinterpreting it," I continued, not knowing if I was trying to convince her or myself.
But deep down, a part of me already knew the truth: neither of us would ever be the same after that confession.
"Judith, I'm sorry," Mel apologized, slowly approaching me. "I wish I could tell you it's a lie, or that I'm unsure… but I'm not. I fell in love with you without realizing it." She paused for a few seconds, breathing heavily. "You didn't do anything. You were just you, and I promise I never intended to fall in love or disrespect your relationship with Amber." She clenched her fists in frustration, a mix of shame and sadness in her eyes.
I froze. Her words overflowed with such profound sincerity that I couldn't doubt for a second: she was in love with me.
"Since when have you felt this way?" I asked, stunned, feeling my throat tighten. "When did you realize that…?"
I couldn't finish the sentence. The words got stuck between confusion and fear.
"Since the party," Mel answered without hesitation. "From that moment, I knew. Judith, I may not understand much about love, but I also know that you feel something for me."
Her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that forced me to look away.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I love Amber… but with you, I don't know what's happening to me."
I didn't have the courage to look at her. I didn't want to see her expression or imagine what she might be thinking. I feared hearing something that would destroy me, phrases like: "I was just a good time for you, a distraction, a toy you played with for more than a week, but now you don't want it anymore."I didn't want that. Mel was none of that…
"Judith," she called softly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
She gently lifted my chin, bringing my face up until our eyes met. Her gaze trembled, but her voice sounded firm, almost poetic.
"Since I was a child, I learned to express my love in the purest, most overflowing way," she began, "as I was taught, without measuring words or gestures. But as I grew, many called it exaggeration, mistaking it for flirtation. That's why, when the desire to show you how much I love you arose, I thought I was falling into the same trap… exaggerating again. And I chose to remain silent, to repress it, without realizing that what I truly felt was real love, because I had fallen in love with you for no reason at all."
Her voice broke for just a moment, enough to make my chest tighten.
"I panicked when I understood what was happening to me," she continued, her voice trembling. "Because you know I've always hated not having a manual, instructions telling me how not to make mistakes. But with you, everything is different… with you, I don't need rules or guides; I'm simply willing to take the risk, to fall, to learn, to live every step by your side, even if it means losing everything."
She paused, took a deep breath, and her eyes shone with a mixture of love and resignation.
"And yet, I don't want to demand that you love me or choose me just because I confess this today. I want it to be because you truly love me, because it comes from you. And if it's not… then I only wish you happiness, and that you wish me luck on my own path, where I will have to learn to forget you while still being grateful that you awakened this love in me." Mel lowered her gaze, trying to hold back tears. "But if in the coming days you discover that you love me, as much as you do her… please, choose me."
Her voice faded with a sigh, leaving me trapped in guilt and frustration.
She gave me one last smile: fragile, trembling, yet full of love. Then she gently released my face, turned on her heels, and left without looking back. I felt that with every step she took, a piece of me walked away with her, as if the air in the room had grown heavier, more impossible to breathe.
The next day, I discovered that Mel had literally left the mansion. She hadn't left notes, messages, or a single sign of farewell. I wanted to call her, I wanted to look for her, but fear held me back. I didn't want to give her false hope just to hear my voice… and yet, I was dying to know where she was.
Three days passed. Three endless days without Mel. My anxiety grew with every hour, my confusion became unbearable, and I eventually broke down. I felt empty, alone, without direction. I didn't know who to talk to, who could listen to me without judging.
Looking back, I didn't understand why I had isolated myself so much from my friends, my cousins, from everyone. Maybe I just wanted to protect my relationship with Amber, to avoid glances, comments, or gestures of disapproval. I had withdrawn out of cowardice.
"I only distanced myself from everyone because I was cowardly…" I murmured, sinking into the bed, hugging the pillow as if it could hold me together.
With the little strength I had left, I decided to see my mother. I felt that if I didn't talk to someone, I would suffocate. I didn't have to say anything to my nanny when she opened the door; she simply embraced me tenderly and guided me to my mother.
No words were necessary. My mother already knew. She had noticed back in Alaska, and according to what she later confessed, she had mentioned it to my nanny, who had also sensed it by the way I spoke about Mel, by how I sought excuses to help her. My mother, however, had denied it in her mind, because every time she thought of Mel, she cursed her unintentionally.
"I don't know what to do," I finally whispered, my voice breaking as I tried to hold back the tears burning in my eyes.
My mother took my hands in hers and looked at me with tenderness."Sweetheart, I know it's difficult," she said calmly, "but you just need to allow yourself to feel. The answer is already inside you, but guilt won't let you see it. What you did wasn't right, you know that… but now you need to stop punishing yourself so that the truth can surface."
"My girl, your mother is right," added my nanny, stroking my hair gently.
"It's just… I still don't have an answer," I replied desperately, finally letting the tears escape.
My mother sighed and glanced at my nanny before returning her gaze to me, a mix of sadness and understanding in her eyes."Do you remember how you felt with Amber, darling? When you were with her, your smile never faded. Maybe… with the Castle girl, you were only looking for Amber, trying to fill that emptiness."
Her voice was soft, but her words hit me like an echo of truth. And at that moment, I understood. Thanks to my mother, the truth—painful but necessary—finally came to light.
I drove straight to my old apartment, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my temples. I called Amber over and over, but she didn't answer until the tenth attempt. When she finally did, her voice sounded tense, distant, though she agreed to see me. She only accepted because I told her it was urgent… and that she wouldn't regret it.
While driving, my mother's words echoed in my mind: "If you go back to Amber, you'll have to do everything possible to make her forgive you and trust you again, because what you did was betray her."
I clenched my fists in frustration, feeling the guilt eating me from the inside. She was right. That's exactly what I did: I betrayed her.
"We've been through so much, Amber… it can't end like this," I murmured, my voice trembling, eyes fixed on the road, as if the wind could carry away my anguish.
Memories began to hit me hard, one after another, filling the silence in the car. I remembered the first day I saw her, sitting two seats ahead in my economics class. She captivated me without even looking at me. I don't know if it was her shy smile, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, or the calm with which she took notes, but at that moment, I knew I had to approach her.
When I finally gathered the courage, I went to her. My clumsiness was so obvious that I ended up laughing at myself… until I discovered that she was just as clumsy as I was. That coincidence brought us together from the very start.
Our first date was a charming disaster: a tiny coffee shop, two cold coffees due to nerves, and our laughter filling the place. I fell in love with the way she looked at me as if the entire world was reflected in my eyes.
Then came our first kiss, so sweet and warm it felt like something out of a fairy tale. I remember how time seemed to stop, how the air felt lighter. I felt that everything in my life finally made sense.
Then the little escapes. Afternoons in the park where we pretended to study, but only got lost in each other's gaze. Rainy nights, when she insisted on dancing under the downpour while I protested, soaked and laughing. Or trips to the cinema just to hold hands in the darkness, knowing no one could see us.
Amber taught me to love through small gestures: notes hidden in my books, messages at dawn wishing me luck on exams, songs she dedicated to me with her imperfect yet heartfelt voice. She taught me that love is calm, tenderness, and feeling at home.
And now, as the urban landscape passed by my eyes, I understood that each of those memories belonged to me, and I couldn't erase them, because thanks to them, I knew what it meant to love.
I entered the apartment, expecting to find Amber. My heart pounded fiercely, and as soon as the doorbell rang, I didn't hesitate for a second to go open it. When I saw her standing there, as beautiful as ever, I couldn't help but smile.
"Welcome," I greeted her with a soft, warm voice.
I knew Amber was still upset, that what I had done still hurt, but I couldn't allow myself to falter.
"Amber, I'm sorry for what I did. I know I betrayed you, and you'll never trust me the same way again," I swallowed hard, trying to continue without breaking down.
My mother's words echoed in my mind again: Amber is an amazing girl, a daughter.
"Amber, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," I continued, my voice increasingly broken. "We've been through so much… fought so many battles… I don't know how to thank you for all of it."
Amber stared at me.
"From your words, I assume you already know who you love," she said calmly, though I could feel the tension in every syllable.
"Yes," I nodded with a fragile smile.
She returned a faint, almost invisible smile, and in that moment, I remembered my mother's words again: "And in your search, you fell in love with Mel…"
"I'm sorry, Amber," I finally confessed, feeling my heart shatter. "I fell in love with Mel without realizing it."
A tear slid slowly down her cheek before she spoke in a trembling voice:
"I knew… deep down, I knew, and I was sure this would happen."
Her words left me bewildered. Did she always think I might betray her?
"Amber, I never thought about deceiving you…" I tried to say, but she interrupted me.
"I don't mean that," she said firmly. "Ever since we had the problem with our parents, I felt we drifted apart… not completely, but a gap opened between us. Didn't you notice?" she asked incredulously.
"No," I replied, confused, looking down.
Amber sighed. Her voice softened, melancholy.
"I always felt guilty because you distanced yourself from everyone, even from yourself. I thought it would be temporary, that you'd be the same again, but I was wrong. That gap kept growing, and even though we were together, something broke between us. I could have done more, but I decided to stay silent… and that silence was also part of the ending."
I looked at her, unsure of what to say. There were so many things I never confessed, so many fears I had hidden.
"I never saw that," I murmured, bewildered.
Amber shook her head slowly.
"You didn't see it, but it was always there, Judith. There were so many things we couldn't fix, and little by little, we drifted apart. Even though we loved each other, our relationship had wounds… wounds we never knew how to heal. And because we didn't, we ended up here."
The silence stretched between us until Amber finally broke it.
"You know, Judith?" she said, her voice tired, almost broken. "It wasn't one big fight, nor an immediate betrayal… it was the little things, those tiny details we let slide."
I listened, too afraid to interrupt.
"At first," she continued, "they were insignificant: you'd forget our dinners, arrive late, stay silent when before you couldn't stop talking. I thought it was stress, that you needed space, and I tried not to make it a problem. But little by little… I realized you weren't the same with me, even though we were committed."
Her words pierced me like invisible needles.
"And I wasn't perfect either," she added. "I got used to not saying what I felt, to staying quiet whenever something hurt me. I became distant without realizing it. I sought refuge in work, in my routines, while you looked for comfort elsewhere, with other people…"
The name Mel fell into my mind like a whisper…
Amber lifted her gaze, and her eyes were wet, shining with a mix of sadness and understanding.
"I know it wasn't her fault," she said calmly. "She arrived at the moment you were already feeling empty with me, when my love had started to lose its strength. Not because I didn't love you, but because we let exhaustion and silence win."
I brought a hand to my face, trying to hold back tears. I remembered the days Amber and I laughed over everything, when we cooked together, when we hugged until falling asleep on the sofa. They were simple moments, but full of love. Yet, over time, those moments became rare.
"It was never my intention to fall in love with Mel," I said, my voice trembling. "She was just there, listening to me when I could no longer speak to you without it hurting. She made me laugh when everything seemed too gray. I suppose, without realizing it… I let her in."
Amber nodded slowly, accepting the inevitable.
"I know," she whispered. "And even though it hurts, I can't hate you for that. Love doesn't disappear all at once, Judith; it fades… until one day you realize it no longer sustains you. And when that happens, the heart looks for another way to feel alive."
Her maturity disarmed me. She didn't shout, she didn't reproach me. She just spoke with the honesty of someone who already understood that love sometimes simply transforms.
"Perhaps," she added with a sigh, "if we had talked sooner, if we had fought more for what we had, this wouldn't have happened. But we didn't. We let silence become habit."
I stayed still, feeling how each of her words simultaneously opened and healed wounds.
"What we had was beautiful," she continued. "But sometimes beauty isn't enough to sustain reality."
Amber smiled, with that mix of sadness and tenderness only a love that reaches its end can carry.
"And even though it hurts now," she said finally, "I hope Mel gives you what I could no longer give you."
The room fell silent. Only the sound of the wind slipping through the window accompanied our ragged breaths. Amber got up slowly, her eyes shining, and murmured a request that took me by surprise:
"Could we go, one last time, to where it all began?" She half-smiled with sadness. "To the café… just to give closure to what we had." Her voice cracked slightly, as if every word cost her.
"Yes," I agreed, my eyes glassy, feeling any attempt to stay strong was useless.
The café wasn't far, so we walked there in silence. Neither of us knew what to say. The cold air wrapped around us, and each step felt like an echo of the past we were about to leave behind. When we arrived, everything seemed the same: the same wooden tables, the warm lights, the aroma of freshly ground coffee. We ordered the same as that first time: two iced coffees. It was almost a ritual, a silent farewell disguised as routine.
We sat facing each other, waiting for the coffees to arrive. I fidgeted with my hands, unable to look at Amber for long. I felt awful, knowing that after this day, she would leave my life forever. Everything we had would become a mere memory—beautiful, yes, but just a memory.
"What will you do after…?" I tried to ask, but couldn't finish the sentence.
I didn't know why I said that; perhaps I just wanted to hear her voice a little longer.
Amber sighed and lowered her gaze before answering, her face marked with a sadness that broke my heart.
"I have some projects to do… you could say I have a lot of work." She smiled weakly, though the smile didn't reach her eyes.
Our coffees arrived. I looked down, unable to meet her gaze. I felt even worse than I already did; every second was heavy, every silence hurt more than any word could.
Then, I felt a warm hand take mine. I looked up and met Amber's eyes. There was tenderness in her gaze, but also a calm that completely disarmed me.
"Don't forget, Judith," she said firmly. "Remember why we are here. Don't make the same mistake twice. Learn to communicate with people, even if it's uncomfortable or painful. Talking is always better than staying silent." She squeezed my hand tightly, as if she wanted to engrave that lesson in me.
I smiled at her, trying to maintain composure, and nodded, grateful for her words. There was so much care in that gesture, so much maturity in her farewell, that I couldn't help but feel a mix of sadness and gratitude.
Time seemed to stop as we finished our coffees, and when she finished hers, she got up. And just before leaving, she turned one last time in front of the table.
"Goodbye, Judith," she murmured with melancholic sweetness. "I hope you're happy with Mel. Although, thinking about how she is… I guess it might be a little challenging to be with her." She smiled with that subtle humor that had always characterized her.
I didn't understand what she meant. I stayed confused, watching her, trying to decipher her words. I was about to ask what she meant, but she didn't give me the chance.
"This is where we part ways, Judith," she concluded firmly. "Not for lack of love, but because loving also means letting go." She gave me one last smile, one of those that blend farewell and affection, and left.
The café door closed softly behind her. I remained seated, watching her silhouette disappear through the fogged glass. And although that goodbye broke my heart, I knew deep down that this was the ending we both needed.
For everything we were, we didn't remain as friends, but neither as enemies. There was no hatred or resentment, just the quiet acceptance that sometimes, loving also means letting go of someone who was once your everything.